


Blood on his Hands

by b_ofdale



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Drabbles, M/M, Pre-Movie(s), Pre-Relationship, Protective!Gaston, Wartime, probably not historically accurate but oh well it's fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-16 07:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10567014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_ofdale/pseuds/b_ofdale
Summary: "Was the man even still alive?Gaston didn't know, and didn't care.Hell, if anything Gaston hoped he was; he could suffer some more and die later."or, Wartime Gafou drabbles





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These are drabbles about Gaston and LeFou's time in the war written to get my writing juices flowing, so it's nothing too elaborate... but hopefully still enjoyable ;)
> 
> I got the prompt "Gaston is furious about something and Lefou has to calm him down" on Tumblr, and since I like the result I thought I'd share it here as well! (sorry, the title is really uninspired)
> 
> TW for blood and violence, I guess!

Punching.

He couldn't stop punching. Again and again. His fists were red with blood, both his and the man’s under him. He wasn’t even struggling anymore.

Was he even still alive?

Gaston didn't know, and didn't care.

Hell, if anything Gaston hoped he was: he could suffer some more and die later. 

“Gaston, stop!”

He barely heard it the first time; he blinked, stopped for half a second, before carrying on. 

Someone put their hand on his shoulder. With a growl he pushed them roughly away, and heard them fall to the ground. 

He kept hitting, blind to everything around him, only seeing red through his own fury. 

“How does that feel, yeah?” he asked, and the man let out a whine. Still alive, then. “Good. Because I feel _great.”_

Someone closed their arms around him before he could give the final hit. He was yanked away, put on his feet, only then feeling the pain in his own hands. 

“Gaston!” 

Gaston blinked several times. 

He saw the crowd around him first, wide eyes staring at him like he was some kind of monster. 

Then, his eyes fell on the small man holding him in place, hands firmly gripping his arms. He looked more concerned than afraid, but seemed horrified all the same. 

“LeFou—”

Gaston saw the red bruise on his jaw, the bleeding cut by his right eye, wet with tears just like the other. Another growl started rising in his chest as he remembered why he’d started this, why he was so terribly _angry._

He went to turn away, to finish the job, but LeFou turned him on his heels again. 

_“Stop,”_ LeFou pleaded. “It’s not worth it!”

That was enough to make Gaston pause. That, made him maybe even angrier.

“Not worth it?” he hissed. _“Not worth—”_

From the corner of his eye he saw a group of men take his victim away, sending hurried glances his way. The only thing that kept him from going after them was the way LeFou grabbed his shoulders, and, ever so calm, locked eyes with him. 

“It’s alright.” LeFou tried to crack a smile, but it was only a grimace through the pain. “I’m alright!”

“You’re not,” Gaston protested through gritted teeth. He couldn’t stop his clenched hands from trembling by his sides—oh, how he wanted to knock out what was left of that idiot’s teeth. 

“I will be,” he replied. “Thanks to you, Gaston! Now, take a deep breath—”

Reluctantly, Gaston did. With the pressure of LeFou’s hands on his shoulders, the gentleness of his voice, and the reassuring look in his eyes, he already felt just a tad calmer.

LeFou tried yet another smile, which Gaston somehow managed to return, though halfheartedly. If LeFou said it was alright, then fine, he would let it go— _just this once._

Perhaps he would shoot the man in the back next time they were out in the field. 

Gaston nodded, slowly. He faced his men again. 

“I’m the Captain of this company, and I punish my men the way I see fit,” Gaston barked. “Let this be a reminder to all of you!”

The men were quick to voice that the message was understood before they returned to their occupations, head down.

“I’ll kill the next one who even touches one of your hairs,” Gaston said in a breath, walking past LeFou.

At the last moment, he grabbed LeFou’s wrist, and led him inside their tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mutual hurt/comfort ensues (ू•ᴗ•ू )  
> no, not that kind of hurt/comfort, you thirsty bargers
> 
> I didn't explain why LeFou got into that situation in the first place but you can imagine whatever you want!  
> Also, it was my first time writing from Gaston's POV so I hope it was fine!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please leave a Kudos and a comment if you enjoyed it, it'd be greatly appreciated! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LeFou takes a bullet for Gaston.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shared this second drabble on Tumblr the other day even though I felt it wasn't quite finished, but it got more notes than the first drabble when I'd posted it... so I thought I'd share it over here as well :3
> 
> Thank you to [gothmpeng](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gothmpeng/pseuds/gothmpeng) for the editing of both first drabbles! :D

“What were you thinking?!”

The question came out as a bark, Gaston’s voice almost trembling with every word. LeFou had never seen him like this, and yet there Gaston was, hurrying him to the infirmary, an arm under his shoulders. 

LeFou wasn’t sure he knew what he’d been thinking. Perhaps he simply hadn’t; he’d just acted. When he’d seen the soldier rise again, musket in hand, LeFou had been afraid. But not for himself.

He’d been too far to get to the soldier in time; so, he’d stood in his way. There had been yet another rumble of thunder, and sharp pain had shot through his leg. He’d instantly fallen to the ground, pushed down by the strength of the shot. He thought he’d let out a sharp cry, too.

Then, he’d seen Gaston bending over him, looking for the wound, something that resembled fear in his eyes. He’d helped him up, called him a fool.

Once in the infirmary, Gaston was never far despite being told his friend would be alright. He paced behind the doctor, stopping every now and then to check the progress, sending LeFou a look as if to make sure he was still awake. LeFou wished he’d been asleep; he’d never thought a bullet would hurt that much.

Later, when LeFou was helped back to his and Gaston’s tent, Gaston sat in a chair opposite their beds, staring at him.

“What is it?” LeFou eventually asked.

“Never do that again,” Gaston blurted out. It sounded like an order, but the way it’d been spoken squeezed LeFou’s heart. It lacked the assurance Gaston usually had.

“Gaston—”

“I’m serious, LeFou,” Gaston interrupted. “You don’t take the bullets. I do.”

LeFou shook his head. “He was going to shoot you.”

“I was turning around. He wouldn’t have had the time.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” LeFou protested, nodding to his bandaged leg.

Gaston glared at him. “Listen,” he sighed, “You stay safe and you patch me up when things go ugly. That’s how it works.”

LeFou knew better than to insist. He got the sheet closer to his chin, closed his arms over his chest.

“Don’t want to share the glory?”

That made Gaston laugh. “Well, that too, but I—” He stopped there, like the words were stuck in his throat. He shook his head, and only by looking at him LeFou’s eyes filled themselves with tears. Of course Gaston wouldn’t say it. And, it hurt.

Gaston cared and worried, he knew. It showed in how he acted and on his face. But sometimes, LeFou wished he would just say something—

“You got me worried.”

LeFou’s eyes snapped to him.

“Wh—what?”

“You got me worried,” Gaston repeated. He picked up his sword and started cleaning it, clearly to avoid looking at LeFou.

“It—it was just my leg.”

“I couldn’t know that.”

Gaston’s eyes met his then, serious and honest. That was enough to make the first of LeFou’s tears roll down his cheeks in silence. He nodded, tried to crack a smile, which Gaston returned, before going back to his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on a third drabble, I'll post it as soon as it's written and edited!
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! Let me know! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston comes back from the battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little drabble for y'all :D
> 
> Thank you to [Liz](http://gastonsbiceps.tumblr.com) for the editing! <3

_“Another one,”_ Gaston groaned. He gritted his teeth, and clasped his hands over the cot he lay on as LeFou piqued the needle under his skin once again.

It was midday, and LeFou couldn’t quite tell exactly which day it was. All he knew, however, was they’d won yet another days-long battle, and he was glad for the quiet atmosphere and the rays of sunshine falling on them through the flaps of the tent. 

More than anything, he was glad that Gaston was alright. Overjoyed, actually, that he’d found his way back to him. Even with a deep, bleeding gash adorning his side, and a moan escaping him as he’d let himself collapse onto his bed. 

“Women love scars, you know,” LeFou eventually said, unphased. He didn’t look up from his task, a line of concentration marking his forehead. 

A part of him liked Gaston’s few scars, too—another part of him remembered how Gaston had to suffer and kill in order to get them. He wished Gaston had never gotten hurt at all, but no matter how much of a good captain Gaston was, luck wasn’t always on his side. There was nothing neither of them could do about that. 

Gaston hummed, “That’s true.”

“And they show how brave you’ve been,” LeFou added. He finally looked at Gaston, and grinned. 

As expected, a satisfied smile found its way onto Gaston’s lips. LeFou wouldn’t have been surprised if Gaston had started purring. 

“You know, you shouldn’t wait to get back to me to have your wounds taken care of. You could let the doctors do it,” LeFou continued. He concentrated on the cut again, though a part of his attention stayed on their conversation. “I’m just helping them. They’d do a better a job than me.”

LeFou knew himself to be good at this—but he didn’t have the experience of the army doctors. He’d taken care of Gaston before, of course; he’d often watched his bonne-maman deal with minor injuries, and he’d had many occasions to apply what he’d seen onto Gaston over the years. 

Even though war wounds were different, the basic knowledge he’d gathered had been useful when learning to treat war-induced injuries quickly, and to become a big part in saving soldiers’ lives. 

“You’re a man of many talents, LeFou,” Gaston said, snapping LeFou back into the present. LeFou bit the inside of his cheek at the praise. “I’ve seen the others’ wounds. They’ll never heal as well as mine.”

“That’s because you follow my instructions, I suppose,” LeFou said, now nearly done cleaning the blood off of Gaston’s skin. Truth was, he was always there to remind Gaston to follow them. “Many of the others don’t, but they had good doctors. You can trust them.”

“Well, I _don’t_ trust them,” Gaston said, like it was an obvious thing. “But I know I can trust you.”

“Maybe I won’t always be there for you,” LeFou replied, carefully. He quickly but carefully bandaged Gaston’s side, the tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration. “There you go.”

Gaston didn’t say anything to that. He straightened up on his elbows, staring at LeFou like he was looking at someone else. At once LeFou regretted his words, and his eyes found the crutches by the bed. They were the only reason he hadn’t been close to Gaston during the battle. 

His leg was healing well, but he wasn’t allowed back on the battlefield. He didn’t know when he would be, but LeFou hoped it would be soon; he hated being left behind, hated not keeping an eye on Gaston at all times. 

He hadn’t considered that Gaston might still be thinking about what had happened.

LeFou wasn’t made for war. He’d known that even before he enlisted—but it didn’t mean he couldn’t survive (after all, he’d survived five years of it already.) Though, no matter what Gaston thought, LeFou believed _no one_ really was made for war. 

“You’re a good soldier, LeFou. No better than I am, but you know how to stay safe, and you can fight,” Gaston said, tone sharp. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Sorry,” LeFou sighed. “I know I am. But it could happen to any of us. It almost did, and we see it everyday. I’m just being rea—”

“I’m tired,” Gaston interrupted, letting himself fall onto the mattress again. He rolled onto his unharmed side with a wince, and remained silent for a long time. 

LeFou merely watched, not moving from his chair. He watched the steady rise and fall of Gaston’s chest, allowing himself to feel the familiar rush of relief going through him at the sight of Gaston safe, and counted the few scars decorating his body that had gathered over the years, like he’d often done before. 

Sighing, LeFou took his crutches, and stood up. He’d help the others, get some water and food, and then come back into the tent for the night. If Gaston was awake by then, he’d try to talk to him again. 

Until then, it’d be good for Gaston to rest. However, he only needed to ask one more thing of him. 

“Gaston.” Gaston’s eyes snapped up to him. “Are you alright? You know—”

“I’m fine, LeFou,” he said. “I’m fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is to be continued ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (probably)
> 
> All comments are cherished <3
> 
> (and if you wish to read more, I posted a [pre-war short fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10681515) the other day. It's got Gaston and LeFou as kids/teens and, apparently, feels! I'm quite happy with it so it would mean a lot if you could check it out!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit longer (and ended up a bit longer - thrice, to be exact) than expected, but here it is! :D (I'm not 100% satisfied, but it will have to do) 
> 
> Again, many thanks to [Liz](http://gastonsbiceps.tumblr.com) for the editing! <3

When LeFou returned, back charged with a sack of hard-boiled eggs, bread and cheese, and a filled waterskin, Gaston had fallen asleep, much like the sun had disappeared behind the horizon. 

Making as little noise as possible, LeFou organized the food onto the small table between their beds, before lighting up a lamp in the corner of the tent. Then, he sat down on the edge of his bed, and wondered whether or not he should wake up Gaston. He should eat, but if Gaston needed a full night of sleep, perhaps it would be better to grant it to him. 

Gaston never liked to be woken up, anyway. It always put him into a bad mood, and LeFou would rather avoid that in such times. Gaston had gone through enough as it was, and his men had more than enough to deal with without having to put up with an injured, moody Gaston—by now they all knew better to stay out of his way. 

Watching Gaston lay there peacefully set a comforting feeling inside LeFou’s chest. Sometimes, he felt like Gaston wasn’t the one who watched over him, but the other way around. And it was true, really; LeFou protected Gaston from himself, and Gaston protected LeFou from the world. Not that he needed protection all of the time, but there were things which he didn’t have much power against, while Gaston did. 

Bitterly, he thought back to the day when that protection had been needed, more than any other time before that. Two years into the war, and rumors had begun to grow so big that there was no way that they weren’t going to explode, one day or the next. It came a few days after Gaston had been promoted to Captain. Soldiers wondered why someone like LeFou had been chosen to be Gaston’s second in command. 

Weren’t there more deserving men? 

They shared a tent already, were never apart from each other—wasn’t that strange? 

Did they lie together? 

No one would have dared to accuse Gaston of such a thing, and LeFou found himself at the center of both the jealousy for his rank and the rumours circling amongst the other men. 

It all came to an end when one of them caught LeFou being a bit too close to Gaston—nothing he’d never done before, merely a touch to Gaston’s lower back, a gesture like many others in which they shared ever since they were children. A way of saying _‘I’m here, and everything’s alright.’_

He’d looked up at Gaston and smiled. When Gaston had walked away, LeFou had sighed but hadn’t let his smile falter, mentally cursing at himself for how much he loved Gaston, and how good it made him feel, though he wished these feelings would be reciprocated.

Later that day LeFou had been back on his way towards their tent, humming to himself, until the soldier had confronted him. He had hit first without asking any questions, but said, loud and clear, that he wouldn’t allow someone like LeFou to corrupt their captain. LeFou hadn’t had the time to fight back, too taken aback by the sudden outburst of violence. 

Everyone in the camp knew what had happened next.

 _Gaston._

He had never asked for any explanations, never brought it back up again, and LeFou was thankful for that. He wouldn’t have known what to say. He could barely find the words to explain it himself. 

All he knew was that rumours had stopped as though they had never been there before, now that Gaston had spoken up, in more ways than one; doubting LeFou was a sign of disrespect, and anyone who openly did would pay dearly for it. 

A quiet groan resonated across the tent, and LeFou was snapped out of his thoughts. Gaston was turning onto his back in his sleep, his hand unconsciously finding his bandaged wound.

LeFou sat on the chair by Gaston’s bed, and caught Gaston’s hand in his before he could press it without care against the wounds. Then, LeFou checked on the wound, making sure it wasn’t bleeding too much through the stitches, applying light pressure where he knew he could around it to ease Gaston’s discomfort. 

LeFou glanced at the food on the bedside table. He was hungry, but not enough to not be able to wait longer—besides, he always preferred to share dinner with Gaston. 

Sighing once more, LeFou went back to his bed, hoping to either find sleep quickly, or for Gaston to wake up sooner. 

In the end, it was sleep who found him first. 

He didn’t know for how long it had lasted until Gaston started to talk in his sleep, causing Lefou to wake up.

“Oh, no,” LeFou whispered to himself. He was out of bed within seconds, pushing back the chair and kneeling next to Gaston’s side. He knew the drill; he’d had to deal with it many times before.

Nights like this weren’t kind on neither of them. 

It started with Gaston speaking incoherent words, names, warnings, and threats directed at people LeFou couldn’t see. LeFou had made it his job to make sure it didn’t go any further than that. If Gaston started thrashing around in his sleep, there was nothing LeFou could do without getting hurt somehow, be it by a lost punch or Gaston instinctively reaching out for the knife under his pillow. 

“It’s alright, Gaston,” LeFou murmured, hoping Gaston could hear him somehow. “You’re safe.”

Gaston’s hand abruptly caught LeFou’s wrist. LeFou gasped, but didn’t attempt to free himself from Gaston’s grasp.

“Gaston,” he called, “Gaston, _wake up._ ”

LeFou repeated the same words, over and over again, voice comforting and reassuring in its steadiness. The more he spoke, the faster Gaston’s breath found a steadier pace, and the faster he stopped moving, sweating, wincing. 

Eventually, Gaston calmed down enough to comfort LeFou into the idea that perhaps, this night would end well after all, and thus, allowing LeFou to breathe a little better.

But Gaston didn’t wake up, nor did he let go of LeFou’s wrist.

 

Two hours later, when the moon was high up in the sky and the lamp in the corner of the tent had dimmed a little, Gaston opened his eyes. 

LeFou heaved out a sigh of a relief; his leg hurt more than before from the uncomfortable position, and he was tired and really hungry, now. 

The first thing Gaston looked at was LeFou, and a flash of something indescribable passed over his face. Then, his eyes fell onto his hand, still around LeFou’s wrist in a grip LeFou could have easily freed himself from. He let go at once. 

They were silent for a while, LeFou knowing Gaston needed some time to gather his thoughts. 

A few more minutes, and Gaston ran a hand across his face. “Again,” he said as-matter-of-factly. 

LeFou nodded. “Are you alright?” he asked, for the second time that day. LeFou knew Gaston would never say ‘no,’ but he always asked, no matter what. 

Gaston shook his head in disapproval. “Why do you always do... that?” he asked instead, straightening up on the cot, brows furrowed. 

“I told you,” LeFou replied, clasping his hands together, but meeting Gaston’s eyes. “Because if I didn’t, it wouldn’t get any better. It helps. Just a little, but it does. That’s enough for me.” 

“You’re too soft, LeFou,” Gaston said. He swung his legs to the side and, with two strong arms, urged LeFou to stand and to sit on his own bed. “How can you get better if you don’t sleep?”

“I’ve had other days to rest,” LeFou protested as he started massaging his own knee. Besides, whatever he could do to help Gaston was worth it. He’d do it every night if he had to. “I’ll be back on the battlefield before next week.”

Gaston’s eyes got lost for a fraction of a second. 

Then, he said, “No. I don’t want you to come onto the battlefield with me anymore.”

LeFou stared at him. “What?” he scoffed. “I know how to take care of myself! You said so yourself earlier.”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying I don’t want you to come.”

“Why?”

Gaston’s eyes snapped towards him. “You slow me down. I always have to keep an eye on you. Make sure you’re alright.”

Despite the barely noticeable lack of conviction in them, the words hurt. It wasn’t exactly true, and Gaston knew so. Gaston did look back to make sure LeFou was still there, but otherwise, it was LeFou who kept an eye on Gaston’s back, so that Gaston couldn’t be stopped from moving forward. That was how it worked. How they worked. 

He wasn’t a burden. He refused to believe he was. 

“You don’t mean it.”

“I do.”

Gaston was an effective liar, but LeFou could read him like an open book. Gaston often forgot that. 

So, he asked, “What did you dream about this time?”

Gaston pursed his lips, his look turning into a glare. Though he knew it was unlikely he would get an answer, LeFou didn’t back down. 

“You know what I dream about,” Gaston said. His voice wasn’t cold, but there was an edge to it that LeFou instantly recognized; it would be better not to insist further. “Please, don’t make me repeat it.”

There was nothing more LeFou needed to hear to understand; when Gaston didn’t say ‘please’ to keep up appearances, it was not to be taken lightly. 

“Gaston, I won’t be left behind,” LeFou said, softer now. 

“This is your Captain’s order.”

“And as your friend, I’m saying no.”

For a moment, Gaston’s glare turned harder. But, the longer LeFou held his gaze, the more Gaston’s eyes lost of their fire, and he ended up heaving out a sigh. With another slow shake of his head, Gaston pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, now running a hand through his hair.

Instinctively, LeFou did the same, before pushing back a stray lock behind his ear. Gaston watched, silent but his eyes saying more than his mouth could ever tell. LeFou knew well what was on Gaston’s mind; the forbidden evening in LeFou’s room, years ago now. 

LeFou shook the thoughts out of his head. It’d been nothing, yet it was following him even here, in the darkness, into the blood and the mud of war. 

Despite the lingering tension of the night, LeFou smiled. “I wouldn’t let you go anywhere I couldn’t follow.”

Glancing at LeFou, Gaston had that look that meant only one thing; _Indeed you have, old friend—you’ve proved so many times already._

Then, his eyes shifted to the low table. They stopped on the eggs, and a low chuckle came tumbling out of him. “You know me too well, LeFou,” he said, laughter lines appearing at the corners of his eyes. 

But LeFou wasn’t fooled, for indeed he did know Gaston well; still Gaston’s bad dreams lingered in the air, and LeFou missed the carefree days of their youth, more than ever. 

“You know me far too well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaston probably dreams about losing LeFou, amongst all the other horrors of war, but who knows...!
> 
> I actually made a reference to another fic of mine in this last drabble, [The Way He Looks](archiveofourown.org/works/10681515), in case anyone's interested! :D
> 
> I'm now done with those little Wartime drabbles! That being said, if there's anything in this setting you'd like to read, feel free to let me know. I absolutely don't promise I'll write it, but who knows, maybe your idea will inspire me and a new chapter will be added to this fic someday! :p 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! I have to focus on a fic for another pairing next, but I'll get back to Gafou, I promise! (perhaps sooner than I want to, knowing myself...)

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's my shipping Tumblr](http://barduil.tumblr.com) if you wanna give it a follow or talk to me about my stories! <3


End file.
